


Best Buds

by grammyawardwinnermeatloaf



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Riding, Semi-Public Sex, obligatory warning for mentions of Dune
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27661183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grammyawardwinnermeatloaf/pseuds/grammyawardwinnermeatloaf
Summary: The thing is Gerard usually likes boundaries when they work or smoke or fuck- playing them off each other in the scattered file cabinet of his brain. They light up to get inspired, they fuck to relax after too-long studio sessions, and they work because there's nothing in this world quite like seeing that flash of inspiration in each other's eyes and teasing it out and finding something meaningful together. So, in disrupting the typical agenda, either he wants this so bad he can't help it or he came into the woods with Ray with the full knowledge of where this was heading. Both options light Ray's blood on fire, a slow steady pulse kick thudding through his body at how much Gerardwantshim.-aka the california weed dads fic
Relationships: Ray Toro/Gerard Way
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Best Buds

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired by many people in the bcs talking about Ray and Gerard making their little California Dad Music while smoking in the woods- thank you all for feeding me the ideas, this is for you guys. special shout out to julia for being my Weed Editor and to barry for really selling this idea to me tysm guys I love you <33
> 
> this fic takes place sometime in the late summer of 2018, all the references to the timeline _should_ be accurate to the information available

Ray is messing around on the grill when he hears it, the unmistakable sound of Gerard almost eating shit and tripping face-first into the fire pit. It's not a surprise, this is like the fourth time Gerard has managed to run straight into the lip of the hole and flail like an idiot, but the noise still startles Ray from his barbeque reverie with a snap.

"Ray! I thought I came out here to brainstorm, not fall on my ass and die." Gerard shouts as he makes his way across the yard, the soft plodding of his footsteps steady and even enough to assure Ray that they're relatively unharmed and he doesn't have to turn away from the flame.

"Dude. It's literally in the same place it always is," Ray shouts back, stifling his desire to get too worried- Gerard hates mother henning about as much as he hates reminders he's getting old. 

Instead, Ray returns his attention to the kebabs on the grill- he’s trying out a new spice mix he concocted with them in mind (he added brown sugar because they like things sweet but made extra sure he could still taste the shitload of garlic), hoping the taste puts that contented little grin on Gerard's face he gets when food reminds him of his mom's weird-as-shit cooking. He finishes the final skewer with a dramatic flourish and turns around to catch his first glimpse of Gerard in what feels like ages.

The last time they'd seen each other properly, not through video calls and emailed edit attachments was probably Gerard's 41st birthday a couple of months ago and, as always, Ray is struck by the twinge of fondness in seeing them as they always are- their affectionately nicknamed skekTek jacket, his mousey brown hair, and the wide, beaming smile Gerard always seems ready to offer Ray when their eyes first meet. But this time Gerard is actually in front of him, close enough to touch and voice crystal clear instead of static through a computer screen and it's a blow to his gut, a sight that momentarily knocks the wind out of him with just how much he _missed_ them. 

He stifles the sappy feeling, knowing that the plan for the rest of the day is figuring out where to go from here, deciding on a new project in the mass of ideas they've collected and neither of them have time to get sentimental.

Distracting himself with the particulars of the food, Ray neurotically plates the kebabs with fidgety hands and heads over to the picnic table, arms laden with the serving dishes. Gerard, who had been standing, hip resting against the wood, springs into action, taking a plate from Ray before he can argue that he’s got it.

“Jesus, Ray, it’s just the two of us, was this much really necessary!" 

He chastises Ray in the same tone he always pulls out when they come over for lunch- the typical song and dance of Ray making too much and Gerard’s voice pitched with a mostly-ritual disappointment at the trouble Ray goes to. It’s just that he can’t help but make double the serving size so there are leftovers- it’s what his mom did and it’s a tradition that lives on in the tinfoil-wrapped paper plates he convinces Gerard to take home every time without fail. 

Ray sets the plates down before responding so he doesn’t drop anything- “I just wanted to make sure we had enough! And you can always take the leftovers home with you- it’s always better to have too much than too little,” he says while gesturing his hands between them. 

Gerard exhales and nods, eyes pinched like he’s struggling not to argue, but Ray knows he’ll give in if he lays it on thick, “I made them special for you, first of all, so you’re going to be the one who eats them… I just thought you might like extra.” Ray makes sure his voice gets a touch dejected. And while he's playing it up a little, it isn't completely fake. He just wants to take care of Gerard a little bit- is that so wrong?

That seems to put a stop to it if Gerard’s soft little look is anything to go by. Ray blushes at the patented "Gerard Way Gaze of Appreciation" face, still a little overwhelmed to be seeing it in technicolor reality again. He won’t say it out loud, will substitute the words with the kebabs and the weed, but he missed them and their faces. 

The moment passes between them as they sit down and get comfortable, falling into the ritual of passing out the food and handing over napkins and ladling out the tzatziki Ray had thought to set out ahead of time before _finally_ Gerard takes his first bit while Ray not-so-subtly stares at them for a reaction.

“Dude, this is amazing,” he says, mouth still a little full and voice laced with awe, "seriously it's fucking incredible, what did you _do_ ," Ray's face goes bright red, heating up like the baking coil at the bottom of a convection oven at the compliment.

"Well... I just tweaked the recipe based off that dish you like at that Mediterranean restaurant, the one behind the thrift bookstore we visited- it wasn’t hard to tell they used allspice and mint in their kafta," he shrugs and trails off, not quite sure how else to explain it. Ray knows he's a good cook, especially on the grill. It's a natural talent, the combination of technical skills and expression of care that makes him enjoy it so much- you need to know the exact measurements of your guests' taste just as much as the specifics of the ingredients. He knows exactly what Gerard likes just by what they say even if they're completely clueless on the difference between cumin and coriander. Plus there's a formula, a recipe that he can memorize and apply as easy as a scale when writing music. To him, it's not that impressive- it's just the way he knows how to bring family together. Everyone has one of those little skills.

“Whatever you did, you know I don’t understand that stuff, but whatever you put on this is so good it could make angels weep,” they joke as Ray flushes and looks at his feet so the tint of his cheeks is hidden by a curtain of his curls and takes his own bite to cover his face before he can look Gerard in the eye again. Praise, with them especially, is always a little different in person and Ray has to take a moment to collect himself after being this long without Gerard’s earnest expressions of appreciation.

There’s a pause as they both keep eating, enjoying each other's company before Gerard mutters something under his breath. It's quiet and clearly a comment to himself, but Ray makes an imploring noise, “What was that?”

“Just thinking out loud, sorry,” he waves his hand before rubbing his face, uncomfortable as always about their habit of talking to themselves. Ray still can’t seem to get it through his head that it’s not a problem, if anything he _wants_ to hear what they have to say.

Not loud enough if I can’t hear you” he teases “You did come here to talk, not just steal my food.” 

“I don’t know…. I’ve been wondering what to do with the music we’ve been putting together. I wanted to put out new music months ago but after the whole bullshit thing with Warner and the album, I just don’t want to deal with that again,” they fidget the whole time they’re speaking, trying to find the right words for their frustrations. Ray can tell he's still conflicted.

“I agreed with you about the album last year and I still stand by it, they weren't going to give you the freedom you wanted," he rests his hand on their wrist, hoping the contact centers them, "I looked over everything with you and I think you made the right choice. But you could still release music if you're careful about it. The individual songs, that idea is smart, you should stick with it."

He smiles at Ray, thankful for reassurance before speaking with barely contained enthusiasm- “At least in the meantime I have plenty of other projects to work on,” and again Ray is taken aback by how excited they sound. He'd gotten so used to the resignation in Gerard's voice over the years when talking about all the work they had, the sense that they were pressured by responsibility instead of motivated by joy. It's a clear sign of how good things have been lately.

"What're you working on right now, last I talked to you it was just some songwriting but that was a few days ago."

"Well, yesterday I started doing some research- Lynz brought home some books and I've been taking notes on sigils, which remind me to send that in the group chat later. But I also have a deadline for Umbrella because we’re finally able to get the third volume started.”

They're positively giddy telling Ray about the story, how weird it is, and the delight they get out of returning to and reworking something almost a decade old with fresh eyes. Ray feels the weird accordion press of time, remembering Gerard talking about these exact plot points in the studio recording Conventional Weapons and he can’t help but marvel at how things have changed, how much more excited they are even now when so many things are returning to how they used to be, like the timelines are smashing together. It’s hard not to get lost in the familiarity of it, to just gawk at the beautiful oddity of this Gerard, in his wizard get-up and paint-stained hands, getting caught up and swept away by projects that used to chip at them.

"What's that look for," he asks after they catch Ray staring in the middle of his monologue about faceless bellboys.

"Nothing, I'm just happy for you, getting to do things you enjoy all the time these days,” Ray’s seen Gerard juggle music and art and purpose for two decades and this is really the first time they’ve seemed content with their work. Even during the early years, the sketchbooks full of vampire aliens and superhero designs ate at them just as much as the martyrdom did, and as time went on they always threw more work on their plate when they were dissatisfied with themselves. It’s good to see him completely absorbed in all their projects instead of bouncing between obligations, looking for something to catch their attention and throw themselves into. It’s nice that they’ve both, just a little bit, grown up and grown comfortable. 

They both get back to eating, embarrassed at Ray’s comment- Gerard because being reminded that things are going well always makes them clam up and go pink, Ray because he’s trying (and failing) to keep the sappy pride under wraps. It’s just, Ray remembers being in the back of the van with Gerard doodling comics, them letting slip lyric ideas while shading an octopus monster. They were always meant to do both, they’ve always needed comics to balance the music and vis-versa. It took all of them a long time to deal with that, Gerard especially had been fighting that, but these last few years have been about acceptance and Ray’s so happy for them reaching this point- band or no band. He’s loved the journey and he doesn’t have many regrets but he would rather be here, watching Gerard eat kebabs and talk shop then be back on Warped Tour any day of the week. Though if there’s one thing he misses it’s the back lounge, just having the space to disappear from civilization for a moment and work in their own little bubble. There isn’t much of that anymore- everything’s less personal over email and voice calls. If only they could get away like that...

"Hey" Gerard waves his hand in Ray’s face after he's finished with his food, startling him out of his reverie, "Why don't we head out and brainstorm, I bet the woods are nice and quiet."

_Fucking_ _psychic bastard_ , Ray thinks when he snaps to attention. Gerard’s already standing in front of him, stacking the plates on the table to take inside later. Ray covers the leftovers with tinfoil to finish the cleanup.

Once everything is put away, Gerard reaches his palm out, waiting for Ray to get up and take it. He smiles and obliges before following behind them as they lead the two of them into the forest.

\---------------

They stop at the first cleaning they stumble across, bright Los Angeles sunshine filtering hazy through the trees like a sepia-toned blanket of orange light. In the late afternoon glow, the world already feels unreal and dreamy and they haven't even touched anything yet.

Ray makes the executive decision to drop down in front of a nearby fallen tree truck, placing his hand on the rough wood to slowly lower his body to the ground while Gerard pulls a baggie and the rolling papers out of one of the many interior pockets of his distressed and clearly unwashed jacket.

Ray chuckles softly, "Man, it's just like old times," he says before pulling at Gerard's unoccupied arm, hoping he catches onto the subtle hint in his words- an effortless combination of flirting and subtly begging Gerard to do more laundry. Gerard huffs softly as he falls gracelessly into a sitting position, rearranging his legs so they fold together into a sprawling criss-cross applesauce.

"I'm too old for old times," Gerard says, eyes closed, two fingers held up as if professing great wisdom. It was an old, familiar mannerism that was still, after all these years, as endearing as it had been in basements and Jersey back alleys when Gerard would prophesize about their future with a gnawing animal certainty "let's make something new." 

A warm breeze follows Gerard's words and he smiles broad and cheeky like the wind came and materialized out of his brain. Ray is too overwhelmed with the warm burst of happiness in seeing Gerard's upturned mouth, their soft smile directly in front of him for the first time in months, to really be mad at him for the wizard schick but he still knocks him over the head softly. 

“Alright Gandalf, how about you focus on putting your brain to good use instead of manifesting the weather,” he says, laughing all the while.

Gerard ducks his head and busies themselves with rolling his joint while he mumbles under his breath. Ray ignores their exaggerated petulance and pulls out his own weed, something he grows himself to occupy the time between the load of projects he takes on. Ray's good with his hands and better at managing his schedule, meaning his crop is, in Gerard's humble opinion since he’s the only other person who smokes it, pretty good. It'll do for what they have planned at least, the endless afternoon of spanning out in front of the both of them perfect for putting their heads together and figuring out what to do with the voice-memo riffs Gerard sent to Ray last week for 'translation', as they call it. It's really just Ray fitting the natural melody into Gerard's little instrumental vocalizations, but he acts like Ray is personally reaching into their brain and digging out the diamonds in the rough or something. He just thinks Gerard's easy to read, that's all. Especially these moments where they get high- the weed doesn't make them any more brilliant than they already are, it just keeps Gerard's nerves at bay.

Ray snaps out of contemplating the weed and refocuses on Gerard's quiet rasp, knowing his stuttering commentary on some new challenge with the Doom Patrol schedule isn't so much important as it is Gerard filling the space with nonsense he doesn't expect an answer to. But Ray usually pays attention, he likes to hear Gerard's thoughts, the underlying weird little ideas they share even in casual speech that he can twist and turn in his brain like clay until he's got something smooth and polished to offer up. So he tunes back into the ever-present comfort of Gerard's voice the way you turn on your favorite radio station on the drive home from work- the kind of automatic reflexive action born out of years and years of muscle memory.

"Anyway, I was talking to Frank a few weeks ago about summoning spells because he won’t stop asking me stupid questions about them. And he was complaining about being sick and “could you just summon some good bacteria in my gut flora to stop me from throwing my guts out everytime I eat cheese curds” and of course I can’t do that like not even getting into the debate of whether animals have souls- which I think they do, of course they do!- but even if animals have souls, bacteria don’t, not because they’re lesser! Bacteria are important, Ray did you know the majority of your body is not your cells but all the germs that live inside of you? But they don’t have souls the same way your lungs don’t have a soul- they’re all automatic processes. But it got me thinking, what if you _could_ summon bacteria? Does that mean you can talk to them? Ray what would you say if you could talk to germs?” 

"I guess I’d ask them what they were doing and why they were hanging out with me of all people. Dude, you got distracted again, finish rolling your joint " Ray responds, voice mellow but brain whirling, already the swirl of sound roaring in his head like a kiln being set alight. He gestures with his own now fully rolled joint "could use the inspiration." 

Gerard is not easy to shut up but being completely distracted by weed always seems to do the trick. He still does that thing where the corner tip of his tongue sticks out while he finishes rolling his joint and Ray looks on helpless and moment-drunk on the surreal feeling of watching a Gerard with grey hairs suddenly look like the same basement dweller Ray met so many years ago. It's not an age thing, though the idea of Gerard making it this far never fails to send a fleeting ache through Ray's heart. It's the idea that it’s Gerard's face, the face Ray fell a little bit in love with the first time Mikey introduced him in the Way kitchen on an overcast November afternoon, the whole room heavy with cigarette smoke and the smell of leftover lasagna Mikey was microwaving to bring back to his bedroom. He remembers the way Gerard yawned as he walked into the kitchen- hair oil-slick black tar, mouth wide enough to show his fillings, teasing fingers clenched around the side of his neck. Ray's had the opportunity now to be starstruck by many of his heroes or in the presence of beautiful celebrities, but nothing is ever going to compare to that first glimpse of Gerard's face- the intrinsic pull of his orbit catching at something deep in Ray's gut that he'll never be able to, or even really want to, shake off. 

"I was thinking about that Halloween song we started a few weeks ago, what if we ran with that and did multiple singles for the last half of the year and they were all about talking to non-real things, objects as people- people as big and smaller than themselves, y’know? Like the germs." 

Ray shakes his head as a response, too busy lighting up himself to talk but he knows Gerard sees it for what it is- a sign to continue, that he's listening.

"And I remember that soundbite you sent me, what like 6 months ago with that little bass groove that was really clean, we should use that for the second one" he takes a breath, starts smoking. Ray watches helplessly as he wets the joint, mesmerized as always by the odd bend of Gerard's lips, the weird quirk to his mouth that draws Ray in until all he’s thinking about is the way their smile fits against his lips when they're kissing. 

But it's not just his lips. It's the view of their fingers and the expanse of his hand. See while Frank smokes his cigarettes like a joint, they all tease him for it, Gerard does the opposite- his hand spread wide while they lift it to his face just like when he's got a Marlboro Light tucked between his fingers. Ray's glad he has his hair and his own joint to hide behind. It's not like Gerard doesn't know how he feels, but they came out here with a mission to come up with something, and Ray is supposed to be the one guiding Gerard's whims, the one in control instead of spiraling just by the awkward curve of Gerard's tiny pinky. 

They both contemplate Gerard's idea in silence for a moment while the wind stirs around them and the smallest sounds of birdsong whisper in from a distance. Ray hasn't felt this relaxed in months, the steady pull of projects stretching his mind and body thin and trembling. He knows the other part of the reason they're out here is because Gerard, even now, gets worried about Ray's perfectionist streak and tendency to overwork himself and with the tentative plans for the band looming over the horizon, well, Gerard knows old habits die hard. 

"I just remember this thing Jamie said to me about you should just get the germs of ideas down and I can’t stop thinking about it," Gerard says, frowning as he takes another hit, clearly on the verge of something but unable to put it together all the way just yet. 

"What, just like getting the things you don’t like done, taking your medicine, that sort of thing?" Ray asks, hoping to goad him into a revelation.

“Yeah, maybe. Or maybe he was making fun of me for having to disinfect my desk because I spilled glittery paint all over it when I was finishing this cool miniature and had to deep clean the whole room."

Ray laughs at the mental image of Gerard scrubbing glitter particles off the ceiling or something, "Dude, if you just bought the official dnd ones this wouldn't happen- they’re already painted."

"I don’t have the time to paint miniatures anymore anyway,” they say while waving their joint-free hand in front of their face, “I usually buy them off Etsy but they’re so brittle and are always harder to paint. That’s why I made a mess." 

"Man, you just use shitty paint," he argues, remembering how college-aged Gerard had used enamels on the miniatures that lined his basement shelves so they looked like shoddy clay statues. He wouldn’t be surprised if they still did the same thing, art school education and the advent of the internet be damned.

"First of all, I used acrylics like you’re supposed to but regardless, they should fulfill every painter’s needs and if I want to make Dune characters I should be able to do that without completely repurposing the whole thing and almost breaking it with the paintbrush!”

“Gerard. You know I love you but… a Dune campaign? Are we returning to 1998?” 

Listen, Ray loves Dune as much as the next middle-aged nerd but even he thinks this is too far.

"Ok, I wasn't actually going to use them for anything but... when we first got Lotion I read him Dune to acclimate him to my voice y'know and with all of his health issues recently, I don't know, I just wanted something nice to commemorate him" Gerard sounds a little sheepish as they admit to it as if it isn't one of the cutest things Ray's ever heard. He's momentarily stunned speechless at how sweet the idea is.

“You made dnd miniatures for your cat. And not just some dragon. But special Dune ones you made yourself," he manages to get out in a daze. 

"You should come over and see him since he just came back from the animal hospital," they continue on, unknowingly steamrolling Ray’s stupefied interjection, “Mikey's already visited. And if you come over we could watch the new Doctor Who premiere! It’s only a few more weeks before the new season starts, it would be perfect timing."

Ray shakes out of his stupor, “I'd love to visit and see how Lotion's holding up. And for the premiere as well- there's no one I'd rather see the new season with than you… how do you feel about the casting?" 

“I’m so happy they _finally_ added a female doctor, it took them long enough, plus I liked Jodie Whittaker a lot in Attack the Block so I think she'll do great. I'm just hoping they let her be wacky. I miss when the Doctor was just some weirdo in a suit.” 

"I would prefer a more serious performance considering the more recent seasons. With all the horrible tragedy of nuwho? Let her embody the rage and sadness! Give her role complexity!"

"I like the dark themes too, trust me, I just don't think the Doctor has to be gloomy and angry to be full of darkness: look at four! Listen," they readjust themselves in the dirt, scooting forward and sitting up to look Ray in the face, "that run wasn't all sunshine and rainbows just because it was humorous, if anything the combination of funny and righteous moods made Baker's Doctor the best!"

That opens the Pandora's Box and soon they're arguing about which Doctor is the best: Ray _insisting_ it's nine, “because Eccleston's acting is eccentric at the right moments but adds a necessary seriousness that sets him apart” but Gerard will not concede that four was the peak "because he's nonhuman enough to be compelling and odd but is still full of life and adventure". They mutually decide to agree on Tennant just out of solidarity for the fan becoming the hero narrative. 

Before too long, Ray notices Gerard staring down at their second roach, face crinkled up in the exact way he looks when trying to remember a chord progression or a superhero name- like something’s missing and they're trying to place where it escaped to. Ray’s close to asking him what’s on his mind, thinking maybe they’re getting somewhere with the idea from earlier and he just needs help teasing it out, when Gerard looks up helplessly, the smallest smirk barely hidden around the tangle of his mousy hair.

"Dude. I'm out of weed," he mumbles out and then lets loose the sharpest pot giggle, like his normal laugh extended out molasses-slow and it completely derails Ray's carefully thought out plot to question them into a new discovery. Instead, he's completely fixated on the movement of their lips, the small peak of their tiny teeth taking all of his brainpower. 

"We could always just share mine" he suggests, holding out his half-smoldering joint that Gerard grabs messily, their hand gripping Ray's wrist before plucking it from between his fingers. The contact is good, more than good, and the firmness of Gerard's grip reverberates through them both and turns the air tense. Frozen by his own boldness, they stare up into Ray's eyes like he's contemplating something, face dusted pinkish from the high and the golden light illuminating their beard with reflected sunshine. He's gorgeous and it takes everything in Ray's razor-thin control to reign in the desire to nuzzle into his throat. They're supposed to be brainstorming and he refuses to be the one to crack first and surge forward, he has _some_ self-control!

"C'mere, wanna make it last," Gerard says after his moment of consideration, the whole phrase pushed out in one breathless rush. 

It doesn't occur to him what they mean until Gerard takes the hand on his wrist and grabs at Ray's face, bringing their foreheads together and pleading with eyes big like saucers, like he wants this so bad that he can't help but turn his heavy-lidded pot gaze into huge puppy eyes with his wizard powers or whatever. Ray is stoned off his ass, mind floating out of his head like a balloon but the second Gerard's hand touches the back of his neck it's like being electrocuted into sobriety and all he can think about is the faded memory of a thousand kisses forming themselves against Ray's lips like being hit with every single ghost of Christmases past all at the same time. It's like being run over. Or crushed by an anvil. Or tackled by Orc. At least, that's what he thinks it would be like to be tackled by an Orc, they don't exist.

As if to spite Ray's internal contemplation of Orc muscle mass and charging velocity, Gerard takes his hit slow and as close to Ray's face as he can get away with, exaggerating the drag of his lips and the hollow of their cheeks until Ray is completely focused on his face and squirming against the tree. Gerard smirks and pulls Ray back in, reeling him forward with the hand clamped on the back of his neck and presses their mouth on his. The warmth of his lips, the slight abrasion of stubble, and the overwhelming smell of coffee and cigarettes and three-day sweat all make Ray relax, his own mouth opening easy to let Gerard in.

And while it's been a few months since they kissed, it's been even longer since Gerard has taken a hit and pushed smoke into Ray's mouth like this. Maybe since that house party in 04, when Gerard was still trying to tag along with the guys after shows but was sober enough to end up hiding out with Ray in the backyard, away from the drunk crowd and the free booze. He barely remembers that night, which of them even pulled out the weed, which of them suggested shotgunning it but if Gerard is as desperate to get off after getting his mouth on Ray's as he was then... well Ray was fucked. Besides, there was no way they were getting anything done while Gerard was in his lap, body all around him, in the very air he was inhaling. It was being surrounded in them until the rest of the world dissolved into the background, the whole of Ray’s brain focused on the feel of Gerard's weight bearing down on him instead of instrumental cohesion or lyrical motifs or doctor who characters.

The thing is Gerard usually likes boundaries when they work or smoke or fuck- playing them off each other in the scattered file cabinet of his brain. They light up to get inspired, they fuck to relax after too-long studio sessions, and they work because there's nothing in this world quite like seeing that flash of inspiration in each other's eyes and teasing it out and finding something meaningful together. So, in disrupting the typical agenda, either he wants this so bad he can't help it or he came into the woods with Ray with the full knowledge of where this was heading. Both options light Ray's blood on fire, a slow steady pulse kick thudding through his body at how much Gerard _wants_ him. 

"Mmhm," Gerard releases Ray's face gently waiting for Ray to exhale "See, this is much better." 

Ray only nods in response, too caught up in the rush of smoke and blood filling his body like cotton as he looks up at Gerard with what he hopes isn't blatant wanting (but so totally is, Gerard has let him know just how open his face gets when he's turned on like the muscles telegraph all his dirty thoughts no matter how hard he tries). He breathes out a steady stream of smoke, already anticipating the feeling of Gerard doing it again.

Gerard takes another puff of the joint and Ray can't help it this time, he stares directly at Gerard's fingers, his brain laser-focused on what he knows they're capable of- the feel of them in his hair, on his cock, inside of him, buzzing around his skin as he breaks out into a cold sweat. Gerard just smirks before petting the side of Ray's face like he knows just what he's thinking before pulling him forward and exhaling into his already open, panting mouth. The second time is just as overwhelming as the first, the full weight of Gerard's body blanketing him, holding him in place while his brain drifts further and further away. It's like they're breathing each other in, mind and body transferring from one into the other until they're too mixed up, caught up in each other like instruments folding into the same track or harmonies layered into a rapturous chorus, a blissful new sound emerging when they're floating together like this.

It only takes a few more back and forths before Gerard nips at Ray's bottom lip and pushes him completely back against the side of the fallen log behind them. The sharp dig of tree bark isn't enough to distract Ray from the look on Gerard's face and the heat in his gaze pins Ray down more than the soft hold they have on his shoulders ever could.

"Let me suck your dick," he pleads, voice still slurred slightly but pitched up and whiny. 

The need in their voice combined with watching Gerard's eyes widen while he begs for his cock, sends shockwaves of white-hot heat through Ray's stomach and he feels his dick twitch in his newly uncomfortable jeans "Please Ray, I want- I want to taste you."

"Fuck Gerard, out here really!" Ray’s voice is a little shrill and, when he's sound of mind enough to look back on it he'll blame the weed and the surprise of an impromptu blowjob on how high his voice manages to get, but _fuck_ , watching Gerard's face open and begging for something in his mouth is hot enough to burn Ray's face off if he stares too long.

Gerard pleads some more, his breathy voice catching on each “please” while their hands knead Ray’s hips restlessly like he can't help but reach out and touch, like if he doesn't get his hands on Ray he'll fly off without anything to ground them.

Ray lets out a strained alright, his brain practically mush and Gerard hasn't even got his mouth on him yet. The first feather-light touch of Gerard's hand against Ray's cock releases a rumbly moan deep in his chest, and Gerard answers with a loud exhale that ends on a whine. 

"Was thinking about this all day, about what I'd do to you when I got you out here" Gerard says while he unzips Ray's pants, fingers bumping against the hard ridge of his dick in a way that makes Ray gasp and curl his hands into tight fists at his side. They are a little slow working him out of his jeans from the weight of the weed, but he's efficient, eyes growing wide with delight when he manages to rustle the waistbands down to his calves. But his gaze quickly turns hungry, mouth curving into a pleased smirk, and watching the change happen as he situates their face between his legs is enough to send shivers down Ray’s back.

“I love your dick, Ray, love how red and pretty it gets for me," he says in a tilting little voice, tone teasing but eyes serious like he wants to convey how much he loves Ray for giving him this.

Before Ray can say anything in response, Gerard kisses the top of his dick, giggling over the delicate action while Ray chokes on his spit.

"I love tasting it, seriously, mmhm love the way you feel in my mouth, the weight of you on my tongue," Gerard says casually, unaware as always to the way their babble affects Ray- makes him feel out of control in the best way. He's slowly pumping his cock while they say it, wringing Ray out while spilling filth into the open air like a goddamn miracle. And maybe Ray gets sentimental when he's high, but the feeling of Gerard’s weird artist callouses passing against the head of his dick while he whispers about how Ray looks so good "like a painting come alive," or how hot he looks "blushing all the way down to his cock," is enough to build twin aches in his heart and his gut.

"Ahh, Gerard plea-" he cuts off with a moan as Gerard sinks his mouth around Ray without any warning, taking in most of him with one smooth slide. He doesn't stop until his lips touch their fist and then they just hold there, throat and eyes both fluttering as if overwhelmed with ecstasy. Ray cannot help but gape down at him, breath stuttering in his chest as he just _looks_ at Gerard and he hasn't even _moved_ yet. It takes every bit of self-control not to fuck up into the overwhelming warmth of Gerard’s throat, knowing it’ll be better if he sits back and lets Gerard set the pace themselves.

After what feels like an eternity, Gerard starts bobbing his head, moving with his patent combination of enthusiasm and expertise that wrings whimper after pant after moan from Ray. The slide of his lips and the suction nearly shakes Ray apart, it’s so good. Gerard isn't faring much better, the vibrations of his own moans rippling through his diaphragm and echoing around Ray’s cock as their hips shallowly ride Ray’s calf. Ray _knows_ Gerard likes sucking cock but it always surprises him just how needy he is, how even in this pot-induced haze the air between them is crackling with heat and want that spurs Gerard to take Ray all the way down and choke on him, the flutter of his throat and the slight chafe of his beard overloading Ray’s senses. Before Ray’s weed-blasted mind can really process this, Gerard is moving again, the pace lazy and wet, before pulling off and licking up the shaft and then taking him down again.

It isn't long before this cycle of licking and sucking builds furnace-hot in the pit of Ray’s stomach and he’s forced to pull lightly on Gerard's hair in order to get them to let up. The long, greasy strands get caught up in his fingers in a way he longs to replicate with more force but he knows he has to get Gerard off his dick _now_ or he's going to come way too soon.

"Gerard, please ah fuck…. you, you gotta stop" 

And, reluctantly, Gerard comes up for air with a slow, obscene pop, continuing to lick at the head like he can’t stop tasting him. 

"Mmmhhm, Ray, please want you to fuck my mouth- want to feel you hit the back of my throat” he begs hoarsely. His lips are shiny with spit and pre-cum that he rubs around into Ray's thigh when they nuzzle into the junction between his leg and his crotch.

Ray swallows, knowing Gerard has some studio time in the near future and his voice isn't as, let's say elastic as it used to be. He puts on his best attempt at his Voice of Reason when he's this out of his gourd and 90% of his blood flow has been redirected to his achingly hard cock.

"Gerard.. you know that's not a good idea. come on, come up here, let me fuck you instead."

So what if part of his reasoning has ulterior motives?

"Fuck yeah that sounds awesome," Gerard says in that particular gleeful, excited tone he gets when things like opening a package to a Star Wars action figure or someone making him coffee happen. They crawl fully into Ray's lap, legs bracketing Ray’s knees, and kiss him wet and sloppy at the same time he lets loose a helpless little cackle. Ray eventually gets him to stop through sheer force of tongue and by curling his arms around Gerard’s middle until they’re snug into each other. Wrapped up like this, the kiss turns from sweet to heavy, Ray's hands twisting in the back of their hair to angle them both together better. This turns into Ray pushing the hair behind Gerard's ear and stroking it gently, a counterpoint to their increasingly fevered kissing that makes muffled whines escape Gerard's mouth. Their hair is deceptively soft and it makes Ray keep petting, soothing his face and scalp with tender touches that he hopes show just how deeply he cares at the same time the kisses show how fevered Gerard's mouth is making him.

It isn’t long before they have to come up for air, their foreheads touching as they pant into each other's faces and laugh in quiet, delirious huffs. Gerard catches their breath first and dives in for another kiss.

"Wait. Do you- did you bring anything with you," Ray asks, stopping him with a hand on his chest.

"A true Jedi always comes prepared" Gerard announces triumphantly, finger pointed up into the air as they lean back on their heels. Ray immediately slaps his ass playfully, which is successful in pulling a gasp out of Gerard and hurrying him along at the same time.

"Alright Luke Highwalker, let's get a move on," he says, drawing a huge, gasping laugh out of them while they rustle around their pockets.

They pull the lube out of the same side of the jacket they stored the weed in and Ray can't help but let out a long string of giggles at the thought of Gerard taping nefarious objects like the lube and the weed into his jacket, like a drug dealer straight out of a high school psa video. 

"What else do you have in there," Ray gets out between the laughter, his eyes prickling with tears "Lsd, a knife, a severed finger, TWO knives"

They both explode with laughter, a momentary pause in the proceedings that leaves them both griping at each other and gasping for air. Gerard, after a moment of full-body joyous crying, wipes the tears from his eyes before looking at Ray with the stupidest, most beautiful smile that knocks the wind right out of him. However, it's only a moment before the sappy grin transforms into something impish.

"Maybe if you're good, I'll show you," he says, mouth curled up and eyebrows raised, completely searching for a reaction.

Ray obliges, covers his face with his hand, and knocks his head back into the fallen tree behind him, moaning with how cheesy of a line it is. But the hand over his eyes means he misses Gerard smearing the lube into his hand and he jolts with surprise when they end up slicking it over his dick. 

"Wanna ride you, want to fuck myself on your cock _please_ " Gerard whimpers out while they jerk him off and all Ray does in response is moan and grab for the lube, covering his own fingers and they both scramble to push Gerard's pants down, not quite thinking the steps through in their eagerness so Gerard's belly is smeared with lube and spit. Ray pulls Gerard forward and their cocks rub against each other, Ray's sliding up through the messy slickness they left behind while they both moan at the contact. 

Getting his bearings back, Ray drags his hands down Gerard's back, moving until his palms are resting against the globes of his ass. He squeezes impulsively which startles a heavy grunt out of them and rocks him forward against Ray's cock again. 

It's starting to be too much, the lasting effects of the blowjob still coursing through Ray like molten lava so he anchors Gerard back a bit, choosing instead to rub circles into his hips that slowly, slowly migrate further and further back until his fingers are skimming the edges of Gerard's hole. He uses one hand to grab more lube, while the other keeps circling the rim, refusing to push in no matter how much they push back and plead for it. It isn't until he's properly slicked up and tired of teasing that he dips the first finger in, pushing all the way to the knuckle while Gerard's hisses turn into a small, eased out moan of pleasure.

Ray has always loved opening Gerard up, and this time is no different, he's overwhelmed by the familiar, slick feeling of rubbing up into Gerard while they bare down on his hand desperately and more gasped, harsh syllables force themselves out of his mouth. Just being able to take Gerard apart and give them so much pleasure at the same time is what makes this so enjoyable for Ray- wringing out a stream of filthy babble and choked whimpers with just the precision of his hands. It's the ability to play Gerard like a riff, the satisfaction of getting something Right and hitting just the perfect chords until their body sings out with tension.

And the whole time Ray's working him open, "God, your _hands_ Ray Ray fuck ahh please please right ther- _more_ " is all Gerard's able to get out, an endless mantra on repeat as Ray goes from one finger to two, until there are three fingers flexing and curling inside of him, Ray purposely missing his prostate to keep them on the edge and desperate for relief.

Gerard is whimpering and panting into Ray's neck and he's momentarily overwhelmed with their closeness, with the simple act of being inside of Gerard like this, getting to see him open and vulnerable with contented pleasure is a privilege he allows himself to revel in, to whisper in Gerard's ear how good he's doing and how gorgeous he looks squirming on his fingers.

They both get lost in the hedonistic cycle of Ray twisting in and out of Gerard- Ray's focus on making sure he's both stretched and relaxed enough to take Ray's cock, while Gerard is too hazy-eyed with pleasure to do more than mindlessly screw down on Ray's hand. But after Ray deliberately ghosts his fingertips over Gerard's prostate while he circles his other hand around their cock, it's like it breaks something in them and he lets loose a stream of frantic begging as he rides Ray's fingers faster.

"Can-ahh can I please ride you. Ray please I need you inside me" they're whispering over and over into Ray's neck, breath hitching on each tug of Ray's hand over his steadily leaking cock like he's running out of air. Ray finally gives in to his earlier desire and pulls Gerard's hair so he can look him in the eye and Gerard moans in one long broken cry before being reduced to panting in Ray's grip, neck arched to fit his head further into his hand like he wants more. Ray tugs again, beside himself with the urge to keep _ruining_ Gerard, and their mouth falls open as they try to suck in more air. The image, Gerard's lips still spit-slick and rosy while his whole face is drenched in spit, sweat, and precum, is enough to make Ray buck up against Gerard's thigh. He's just so beautifully messy like this, he always is. Gerard returns the favor by pushing his hips down onto Ray's clothed leg, their dick hard and pulsing against the drag of denim.

"Jesus Gerard, are you ready, do you want me to fuck you?" Ray asks, mostly because he wants to hear him say yes in that breathless, reverent tone he gets this far gone, but also because it's appealing to just keep going and make Gerard rub off on his knee until he cums all over Ray's jeans.

But sure enough, Gerard is shaking their head and whispering "yeah Ray, I'm ready, I'm good" before he's reaching out and getting his hand around Ray's cock again- giving him a few nice long pulls as they swipe his thumb over the head, smirking as Ray gasps and squirms in his firm, careful grip. 

Gerard zones out for a minute, just slowly jacking Ray's cock while he stares down open-mouthed and unfocused. It isn't until Ray brings his hands up to tug on his hair again that Gerard startles and gasps out of their trance, bringing himself forward for a lazy, open-mouthed kiss.

Not even a moment later, still latched to Ray's mouth, Gerard scoots forward until they're chest to chest, his thighs settled tight around Ray's waist and isn't wasting any time before they're using one hand to guide his cock against their asshole, the other to caress Ray's jaw while they bear down on the head of Ray's dick. They both moan, voices muffled into each other's mouth when it sinks in, caught up in the blissful euphoria the way you can't help but sigh as you ease into a hot tub.

Gerard lets gravity do most of the work, relaxing down onto his cock as Ray moans steadily louder against Gerard's tongue. It only takes a moment before his ass is pressed all the way against Ray, his body anchored tight against Ray's chest as they pant against his cheek and passively dig their fingers into Ray's shoulder. Once they're settled, he moans and twitches on Ray's lap, his motormouth running about "how fucking full" he is, how Ray is "filling me up so good". Ray, in an attempt to have something to hold onto and to still Gerard's movements before he gets too overwhelmed, surges and grips his hands hard on Gerard's hips, pinning him in place flush against his torso while Gerard squeezes around him.

"Fuck- oh my god Gerard," Ray pants, petting the places his fingers have already started leaving bruises- an attempt at apologizing for his rough treatment. 

"It's ok just let me…" Gerard mumbles, voice soft and breathy while Ray's hand whirls in the soft divot of his hips. He struggles out of Ray's grip while muttering about "stupid gravity" and places his hands on Ray's forearms for balance. Using the new-found awareness and leverage to lift up, he rolls his hips in that exaggerated, writhing motion they always start off with, knowing how crazy it drives Ray, how easy it is to bait him into thrusting harder. But, right now, Ray is too high and pleasure-sated to do more than stroke Gerard's side and murmur mindless praise about how tight Gerard is and how beautiful he looks riding his dick.

By some miracle, after a few moments to collect himself, Ray stops from melting into the forest floor and gives Gerard exactly what they want- hard, steady thrusts right as they slide down so they're moving in tandem, both focused on finding that suspended equilibrium that will keep them right here, hanging together in this moment like time has stopped.

He gets lost in the rhythm and soft, foggy pleasure of Gerard completely surrounding him until the scratch of bark catches on his t-shirt, bringing him bodily back to the soundtrack of Gerard's broken whimpers.

Ray laughs, thinking back to what Gerard said earlier, because they were right, even with the weed digging up old memories in Ray's mind like a kaleidoscope of heart-aching nostalgia, this is brand new, the feel of Gerard's fuzzy stubble against his neck and the new creases in his hands and the slow, easy way they're fucking themselves on Ray's cock while a tree stump digs into Ray's back like nails with each of his thrusts.

"What- ahhh- what're you laughing about" Gerard manages to get out between their moans, his eyes dancing and his face open with a lazy, love-sick look.

"S'nothing- just thinking _fuck_ about new experiences," he hisses out between grunts, voice wobbly with heat and laughter.

Gerard chuckles and their mouth twists into a tiny smile before he's squeezing around Ray's cock and kissing him, the combination of sensations, the clack of teeth, the warm wet heat of Gerard tightening around him, and the grip of their arms against his shoulder, all drive him out of his mind. Everything Gerard does is making his hips stutter-stop with the effort of being careful, of making this moment stretch out around them like a note in suspense, echoed through an amp cabinet so it seems to last forever.

"Ok, ok _fuck_ you can lose it, please- c'mon Ray" Gerard goads, rocking down just a little faster so the rhythm changes and Ray's left scrambling to catch up, forced to speed up his pace to match tempo. He loses a little of his restraint in the process, his fucking getting a little more aggressive and Gerard moans low long and loud, pulled back with eyes pinched closed and mouth hanging open. The image combined with the frantic slide of them around him makes Ray's neurons misfire until he's barely holding on from letting go completely and pounding recklessly into Gerard. But he controls himself, refuses to let himself get off before he gets to see Gerard come, wouldn't miss the particular way their nose screws up and his jaw goes slack for the world.

In an effort to bring Gerard to the edge before he loses it, Ray anchors his hands on Gerard's hips and pulls him down. He gets lucky- hitting Gerard's prostate on the second stroke, can tell by the breathy, familiar whine and the way their hips hiccup that he's overwhelmed with the sensation. Knowing neither of them have much longer, he glides one of his hands up to cover Gerard's cock- jacking it as he whispers encouragement in their ear, “Gerard, c’mon I got you, let go for me, I want to see you make a mess.” 

"God, fuck Ray _please_ " Gerard bits out, movement stuttering as he gets closer and closer to the edge. Ray can feel the shaking in his thighs and the hot pulse of his cock in his hand and is thrown back in time, the latent memory of every one of Gerard's pre-orgasm shakes stretching out across Ray's skin in a feedback echo of nostalgia and pleasure and delight at having them at this vulnerable, beautiful moment right before they both fall off the cliff and shatter into pieces.

It only takes a few more well-timed thrusts and the ghost of his teeth on their collarbone before Gerard is coming- face beautiful and unashamedly satisfied while his eyes scrunch up and his whole body stiffens. Ray is too busy mesmerized by the image to really pay attention and appreciate the way Gerard comes all over both their bellies, only adding to the mess smeared into his happy trail.

When he finally relaxes, they slump forward until his head is cradled tight into Ray’s neck. It only takes a moment for them to catch their breath and start whispering nonsense urging into his ear- "Come on Ray, come inside me wanna feel you lose it… feel you… you feel so good you deserve it, to feel good," all while he’s fluttering around his cock and riding him into overstimulation, using every trick to get him off as quickly as possible. Ray can tell he’s worn out, the whole of his legs shaking with it, but they’re still _begging_ , a soft litany of " you- ahhh- you can use me c'mon, c’mon, c’mon” going right to Ray’s gut. 

Ray gives in to Gerard’s pleading easily, using the hands he's re-anchored on his hips to hold him up while he hammers inside of them at an unsteady pace, just trying to get off. He can feel the white-knuckle grip of Gerard's fingers digging into his shoulders and the tight heat of Gerard squeezing around him and the burn of tree bark against his already sensitive back creating an overwhelming rush of stimulation and pain and pleasure that keeps building deeper and deeper in his gut until his own orgasm hits him like a semi (or maybe an orc a voice whispers a little hysterically in the back of his head) and he just lets go of his body and floats into the open-air of the forest. He doesn't return to Earth until his head thunks against the stump behind him and Gerard (somehow no longer with his dick inside him) collapses into his chest with a huff.

They both just lay there, catching their breath, Ray with his arms around Gerard, rubbing circles into his back, and Gerard making soft contented noises. They're massaging Ray's neck where his hands ended up when he fell into hugging him. They’re completely wrapped up in each other and it’s so soft and familiar Ray feels trapped in a moment outside of time, these quiet, brief periods of utter stillness, him and Gerard’s own version of stopping the clock and existing in the space between the seconds and surrounding the years, like pauses in the breaths of the universe. He never wants to leave, mostly because that means worldly responsibilities and project deadlines, but also because this is the calmest he ever feels, the whole of him finally centered on something other than the constant voice in his head telling him to be better or do something. Ray thinks Gerard’s just like that- some kind of real-life superhero, even high off their ass and half-asleep in his lap. 

It isn’t until the steady thrum of the afterglow starts to fade that an idea pops into Ray’s head “Well, what if you use woodwinds to balance out some drums like… hmmm like a flute or an oboe or something, smooth and clean, relaxing…y'know like disinfectant." 

Gerard chuckles sweetly and pats Ray’s thigh before running his whole hand down Ray’s leg, caressing him before muttering “Dude, I’ve always wanted to put a flute solo in something, that’s perfect, I knew you’d come up with something."

They say something else quieter, a tiny little mental note Ray misses because he’s so close to zoning out, but he assumes it's him putting all the little pieces together. He’ll find out later when he’s not covered in jizz.

They sit in silence for a moment, still wrapped up in each other before the ground starts to fuck with Ray's knees and he realizes he needs to find a way to get Gerard up so they can get out of the dirt. As much as he doesn't want to stop the full-body, post-coital bear hug, they really should get inside to cuddle on something other than the forest floor.

"As a reward to ourselves for getting work done, we should go inside and order pizza," Ray offers, smiling at his ingenuity. Gerard never says no to pizza.

But instead, they erupt into laughter, his face red with joy as he gets out- "We got "work done" that's what we're calling it now?" before dissolving into more giggles. 

Ray laughs in response, before sobering up and resuming his mission- "Why not call a spade a spade? And why don't I call in for pizza, in the house, where we won't get bit by termites." 

"Alright, alright I’ll get up and we can go inside, it's getting dark out anyway," Gerard says as they haul themselves up, holding a hand out for Ray.

He takes it graciously before dusting every inch of his pants off and digging restlessly at the tacky mix of lube, spit, and come plastered to his stomach. The less glamorous nostalgia filters in- the tacky feeling of zipping his jeans over everything bringing him right back to late-night bus blowjobs when they’re both out of clean clothes. At least this time a functioning laundry machine isn’t miles away.

"C'mon," Gerard notices him picking and pulls at his elbow, "Why don't we get some more work done in your shower", his voice sly and his eyes bright with mischief.

"Well you know me, lead the way"

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! this is my first fic (and my first finished piece of fiction with actual dialogue lol) so hopefully, if you made it this far, I did the subject justice. If you enjoyed it, please let me know!


End file.
